The Great Game with Sherlock and his daughter
by Ibelieveinsherlock247
Summary: When a strange bomber with an obsession with Sherlock starts playing games it's up to Sherlock, John and Hannah to stop him before he blows innocent people up. The one of the greatest games ever to face Sherlock. A web of riddles, bombs, hostages and one name that nobody utters. Please review
1. Chapter 1

A/N: When I was writing this my computer was correcting me!

Please review

Sherlock is sitting at a table in a large room full of tables and chairs with a man in an orange prison suit, "Just tell me what happened from the beginning," Sherlock said voice full of boredom.

"We went to a bar, nice place and uh... I got chattin' with one of the waitresses, and Karen weren't happy with that so, we get back to the hotel and end up havin' a bit of a ding dong, don't we? She's always getting at me. Saying I weren't a real man…"

"Wasn't a real man," Sherlock corrects him.

"What?"

"It's not weren't it's wasn't," Sherlock explains to him.

"Oh."

"Go on."

"Well, um... Then I dunno how it happened, but suddenly there's a knife, in my hands. And know me old man was a butcher so I know how to handle knives. He learned us how to cut up a beast…"

"Taught."

"What?" the man asks aggressively.

"Taught you how to cut up a beast."

"Yeah, well, then I done it…"

"Did it Mr Berwick… my daughter when she was three could speak better grammar then you do," Sherlock taunts him.

"Did it!" Berwick hits the table angrily, "Stabbed her! Over and over and over and I looked down and she weren't…"

Sherlock turns his head and glares at him.

"…wasn't moving no more."

Sherlock looks around the room.

"Any more. God help me, I dunno how it happened but it was an accident I swear."

Sherlock got up from his chair and starts to walk away.

"Hey! You've gotta help me, Mr Holmes!"

Sherlock stops and stood there for a moment.

"Everyone says you're the best. Without you… I'll get hung for this."

Sherlock turns back, "No no no, Mr Berwick, not at all. Hanged, yes," Sherlock smirks and walks away.

….

John was walking around the streets of London to get some fresh air when after being told that he was fired from his job. When he was half-way home his phone went off. He took out his phone from his pocket and answers it, "Hello?"

"Hello is this Doctor John Watson?" said a woman's voice.

"You're talking to him," he clears his throat.

"Hi, my name is Rachel Morstan; I am Hannah's form teacher."

"Is everything alright?" John asks sounding concern.

"No, Hannah just got into a fight with another student, can you come down please?' John replied

"Sure, be there in 15 minutes, is that alright?"

"If that's alright with you."

John nods his head, "Of course, could you give me the address to the school."

….

John arrives at Hampstead School; he gets out of the cab and walks into the school building, John walks up to a young teacher with straight red hair in a flapper bob and a nose stud

'Excuse me where could I find the office?'

The teacher turns, she's a head shorter than John

'Dr Watson?'

'Yes. Ms Morstan?'

Ms Morstan nodded and the two shook hands

The two walked into the principals to find Hannah in her Black pinafore, dirty white blouse, torn blue jumper, rumpled black knee heights and filthy green felt loafers sitting beside the window.

A burly, strong boy sat near the door, his mother with dyed blonde hair, lots of make-up and gold hoop earrings and a tight fitted dress sat on a seat next to him. A stern stout built woman with grey hair sat behind a desk in front of the three, she looked through her thick glasses when John entered

'Mr Holmes?' John looked up from giving Hannah a stern look to the woman

'No, Dr Watson, I live with them' he explained himself

'I'm Ms Butler, please' the woman waved to the empty chair next to Hannah. John sat down; Ms Morstan went over and stood beside the other teacher

'Alright let's start from the start'

That big break

Hannah walked to her locker trying to ignore the abuse being fired at her. She reached the locker and turned the key the locker clicked opened, Hannah put the books in and took out the books she needed for next period

'Hey Holmes' said a tall stocky boy as he and his minions walked up, Hannah completely ignored them and kept rooting for an imaginary textbook in her locker

'How are you and Daddy psycho today, huh?' Cain Bradford taunted her

'It's high functioning sociopath' she muttered

'Sorry Morticia didn't catch that' he put a hand near his ear and leaned forward

'Nothing' she said

'Hey boys listen to this one, your dad is such a mentaler he scared your ma away 'the boys high-fived each other. Rage bubbled up inside Hannah, she felt her face get flushed, her eyes burned ''_don't react, don't encourage them''_ Hannah couldn't stop herself. She attacked Cain and the two got into a fight.

Present time

'So that's how this happened Hannah you just attacked Cain out of nowhere' said Ms Morstan not believing the lie for a second

Hannah nodded 'I was passing his locker and I attacked him because he did better in the science test 'she explained quietly

John looked at Hannah; the girl was bruised and cut a little, John then looked at Cain. There wasn't a scratch on him.

'Alright, since you both are on your first warning I want you to shake hands' said Ms Butler

Cain and Hannah went to shake hands

'metaler' Cain whispered to Hannah

The same rage bubbled up inside Hannah. The smaller girl leaped forward and tried to strangle the boy. John grabbed Hannah from the boy and held her tight while she kicked and screamed

'Alright, Ms Holmes you are suspended for two weeks 'screamed Ms Butler

…

Two gunshots ring out. Across the living room and shows Sherlock lying wilting in his armchair with his head resting on the low back of the chair. He closes his eyes briefly, then opens them and gazes up towards the ceiling. Sherlock turns his head to look towards the sofa. He is wearing pj's and a blue dressing gown and his feet are bare. John comes running up the stairs with his fingers in his ears while Hannah walks into her bedroom to change. John stops on the landing, lowers his hands and yells at his flat mate, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Bored," Sherlock utters.

"What?" John asks looking at him with disbelief.

"Bored!" Sherlock yells as he springs up from his chair and starts to shoot the wall three times.

"Bored! Bored!"

As he brings his arm back around, John hurries into the room and Sherlock continues to glare at the smiley face but allows John to snatch the pistol from his hand. John quickly slides the clip out of the gun as Sherlock walks towards the sofa.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them," said Sherlock as he walks towards the smiley face.

"So you take it out on the wall."

Sherlock runs his fingers along the painted smile, "The wall had it coming."

He turns sideways and dramatically flops down onto the sofa on his back, his head landing on a cushion at one end and his feet digging into the arm of the sofa at the end nearest the windows.

"What about the Russian case?" John asks as he takes off his jacket.

"Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time. Why were you late?"

"Because Sherlock, I had to go and spring your daughter from the principal's office, oh yeah she's been suspended and do you now she's being bullied?' John asked

"I think she told me before but I deleted it' Sherlock sighed

"

'You ignored that your daughter is being bullied'

Said John slightly shocked

'She can handle herself'

He walks into the kitchen and throws his arms up in despair at the mess on the table which greets him. He heads towards the fridge, "Anything in? I'm starving."

John opens the door, "Oh, fu…" He immediately slams it shut again, unable to believe what he just saw inside. He slumps against the door for a moment, his head lowered, and then he straightens up and opens the fridge door again hoping it was all in his head. On the shelf is a man's head, cut off at the neck. He stares at it for a couple of seconds, and then quietly closes the door again.

"It's a head… A severed head!"

"Just tea for me thanks," Sherlock utters as he looked at a magazine

"No, there's a head in the fridge," said John as he walks into the living room.

"Yes," Sherlock replies calmly.

"A bloody head!" John yells furiously.

"Well, where else was I supposed to put it? You don't mind, do you? I got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death."

John covers his head with his hand, "Have you ever consider how Hannah is going to react to this? She's going to have nightmares."

Hannah walks into the kitchen, "Do we have any coke?"

"I think there's only one left… I used the rest for my experiment I hope you don't mind," said Sherlock without glancing at her.

"Hannah, I don't think you should open…" but it was too late Hannah already opened the fridge door. She glances at the head for a moment then took out a can of cola, and closed the fridge door as if this was something not unusual.

"What did you say suited Molly today?" Hannah smiled as she walked back into the living room and opened the can

"That some new dress looked nice"

"I see you've written up the taxi driver case," said Sherlock as he points at the laptop.

"Uh, yes," said John as he looks at Hannah with disbelief who was sitting on one of the chairs that was close to the window and drinks her cola quietly.

"A study in pink….nice." she said

"Well, you know pink lady, pink case, and pink phone – there was a lot of pink. Did you like it?" asked John as he sits on his favorite armchair.

Sherlock picks up another magazine from the coffee table and he now flips it open, "Ummmmm. No!"

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

Sherlock lower the magazine, "Flattered? Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things."

"Now hang on a minute. I didn't mean that in a ..."

Sherlock interrupts him, "Oh, you meant "spectacularly ignorant" in a nice way! Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister ..."

"I know," John whispers.

"... or who's sleeping with who ..."

"Whether the Earth goes round the Sun ..."

"Not that again! It's not important!" Sherlock raised his voice.

"Not impor…" John shifts his position to face Sherlock.

"It's primary school stuff. How can you not know that?"

"It's because he deleted it," Hannah said simply.

John looks at Hannah, "What?"

Hannah looked at John, "Dad thinks whatever something is not important he has to delete it."

Sherlock sits up and points his head, "Listen! This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful ... really useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

"John looks at him for a moment, trying to bite his lip but then can't contain himself, "But it's the solar system!"

"Oh, hell! What does that matter? So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots. "

"Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world," Crossly shoving the magazine across the coffee table, he lies down on the sofa again, turning over with his back to John. John looks away and purses his lips. John stands up and walks towards the living room door.

"Where are you going John?" Hannah asks as she took another sip of her cola.

"Out I need some air," said John as he put on his coat and walks out of the room.

"Excuse me Mrs Hudson," said John as Mrs Hudson walks in with grocery bags in her hands.

"Oh, sorry love!"

"Have you two had a little domestic?" asks Mrs Hudson as she place the grocery bags on the kitchen bag.

Sherlock stands up off the sofa and takes the shortest route to his destination, walking over the coffee table and going to the left window just as the downstairs door opens and closes.

"Ooh, it's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more."

"Look at that, Mrs Hudson. Quiet, calm, peaceful. Isn't it hateful?" he hissed.

"Oh, I'm sure something'll turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder… that'll cheer you up." Mrs Hudson began clearing things on the table

"Can't come too soon," he whispers wishfully.

As Mrs Hudson was ready to leave the flat she notices the smiley face on the wall, "Hey. What've you done to my bloody wall?!"

"Dad got bored."

"I'm putting this on your rent, young man!"

Sherlock grins over the smiley face, then sighs and turns his head to the front, "So what do you want to do?" he asks.

Hannah shrugs, "I don't know,"

"What about Chess?" he suggests.

Hannah shook her head, "No!"

"How come?"

"Because you cheat!

"I do not!" he protests.

"Yes, you do!"

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do!

Then a massive explosion goes off in the street behind him. The windows blow in and the blast hurls both Sherlock and Hannah forward and to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock groan as he slowly open his eyes. He found himself lying flat on the floor and lay there for a moment wondering how he got himself there. When everything focuses he remembered there was explosion across from the street. The biggest mess was near the windows, but there was glass scattered all across the floor. As he was observing this, he suddenly remembered that Hannah was there. His eyes widened with fear, "Hannah!" he coughs as dust goes down his throat as he straightens himself up. He then heard a quiet sob in the corner of the room. He follows the sound and found Hannah sitting on the floor, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Are you alright?" he asks as he knelt down to look at her closely.

Hannah shook her head, "My arm," she gasped

Sherlock looks down at her left arm and realized she must have broken it with her brittle bone

"Can you move it?" he asks softly.

Hannah shook her head, "It's broken."

Sherlock sighs heavily and gently pick her up from the floor and place her on the couch. As he got up he starts to look around the room, "Where's John?"

"He left remember?" she reminds him.

Sherlock looks at her wound one more time it was something that had to be deal with right away. Sherlock went to the kitchen and broke of a piece of the skirting board 'you need a splint' he walks back and puts the splint against her arm, he took the light blue belt from his dressing gown and put it around her arm holding the splint in place

'There' he whispered

John walks into the main scene of devastation where bricks and dust are scattered all over the road and pavement. John turns and hurries towards 221, where the first floor windows have also been boarded up. A police officer standing outside Speedy's moves to stop him but John explains, "I live over there." John unlocks the door and goes inside. He races up the stairs.

"Sherlock! Hannah!"

As he hurries into the living room, his eye is drawn to the boarded-up windows, then to his armchair, but his gaze quickly turns to Sherlock's chair where Sherlock, now dressed and wearing a purple shirt under his jacket, is apparently uninjured and is plucking the strings of the violin he is holding on his chest while he glares venom towards John's chair.

"John," Sherlock looks up at him.

John glances at his armchair and saw Mycroft sitting on it.

"Where's Hannah?" John asks.

"She's on the couch," said Sherlock as he points his bow at her.

"I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?"

"Hmm? What? Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently," said Sherlock as he looks around the flat.

John turns to Hannah to find her arm in a cast

"I'm okay John," Hannah said brightly

'Brittle bones a bitch' she winked

'I can't' said Sherlock as he plucks his violin strings

"Can't"?" Mycroft raised a brow.

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time."

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance."

"How's the diet?" Hannah asks with an evil grin

"Fine! Perhaps you can get through to him, John."

"What?" John asks as turned to face the two men

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent," Mycroft sighs.

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock asks as if he was ready to attack Mycroft with his violin.

"No-no-no-no-no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so ..."

He trails off as Sherlock, John, and Ophelia were looking at him.

Mycroft smiles humorously, "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?"

"Besides, a case like this – it requires ... legwork," Mycroft looks at Sherlock with distaste.

Sherlock looks at John who was sitting on the table as he rubs his neck.

"How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"

"Dad, he slept in the sofa."

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa."

Both Mycroft and Hannah point out at the same time.

Sherlock briefly looks at John, "Oh yes, of course."

John looks at them with confusion, "How ...? Oh, never mind!"

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became ... pals. What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine." Mycroft gave John a mysterious smile.

"You have no idea," Hannah sighed as she wrote notes on her cast

"I'm never bored."

"Good! That's good, isn't it?" Mycroft gives them a wide smile. Mycroft stands up as Sherlock picks up his bow and whips one end through the air in front of him. Picking up a folder which he had put on the table beside him, Mycroft steps forward and offers the folder to his brother but Sherlock just looks back at him stubbornly. Mycroft turns and offers the folder to John instead.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends. A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in," Mycroft explains.

"Jumped in front of a train?"

"Seems the logical assumption."

John smirks, "But."

"But?"

"You wouldn't ask dad for help if it was an accident," Hannah said as she lay back on the couch

"The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defence system – the Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick."

John chuckles, "That wasn't very clever."

Sherlock and Hannah smile slightly at the comment

"It's not the only copy," Mycroft points out with a false smile

"Oh."

"But it is secret. And missing."

"Top secret?"

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands."

Mycroft turns to Sherlock and glares at him, "You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."

Sherlock raises his violin to his shoulder, ready to play. He looks calmly at his brother, "I'd like to see you try."

Mycroft leans down and gives him a threaten look, "Think it over."

Sherlock stares back at him, unimpressed. Mycroft turns and walks over to John, offering him his hand to shake, "Goodbye John."

John stands as he shakes his hand.

"Would you like me to take Hannah to school for you since I'm on my way to work," Mycroft suggest.

Sherlock shrugs "Do whatever you want with her. "

'Uh, Sherlock did you forget Hannah's been suspended' said John

Mycroft gave his niece a look

'If that's the case I should be off' with that Mycroft walks down the stairs and out the front door

Sherlock begins to repeatedly play a short irritating sequence of notes. John frowns across to him but Sherlock continues to play until Mycroft has left the room. When Mycroft , John sits on the table and looks at Sherlock with confusion

"Why'd you lie? You've got nothing on – not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy? " John asks.

Sherlock shrugs, "Why shouldn't I?"

John nods, "Oh, I see. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere. "

Sherlock turns and opens his mouth but before he can deny everything his phone starts to ring. He irritably whips his bow down again, puts it on the seat beside him and fishes his phone out of his jacket pocket, "Sherlock Holmes."

He listens to it for a moment but his expression change with excitement, "Of course. How could I refuse?"

Sherlock turns off the phone and got up from the couch, "Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?"

Hannah hopped up grabbed her coat and ran down the stairs to the front door

John sighs, "If you want me to."

"Of course," said Sherlock as he picks up his coat, "I'd be lost without my blogger."

"Or your daughter," John whispers as he walks out of the flat with Sherlock.


	3. Chapter 3

The boys arrive at New Scotland Yard and are following Detective Inspector Lestrade across the general office as he leads them towards his office, "You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."

Sherlock rolls his eyes, "Obviously."

"You've love this. That explosion ..." Sherlock interrupts him.

"Gas Leak, yes?"

Lestrade shook his head, "No."

Sherlock looks at him with confusion, "No?"

"No. Made to look like one," Lestrade explains.

"What?" John asks.

"Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box – a very strong box and inside it was this," said Lestrade as he points at a white envelope that was lying on his desk unharmed.

"You didn't open it?"

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?"

"We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped."

"How reassuring."

Sherlock picks up the envelope and takes it across the room to another table which has an lamp on it. Holding the envelope up close to the bulb he examines both sides carefully. On the front in elegant handwriting are the words "Sherlock Holmes".

"Nice stationery. Bohemian."

"What?" Lestrade looks at him with disbelief.

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?"

"No."

'Hannah what happened to you' asked Lestrade as he eyed the scribbled on cast

'Fell during to explosion, brittle bone won'

"Would you two shut up?" Sherlock raised his voice.

Both Lestrade and Hannah shut their mouth and glared at Sherlock for a moment who was still observing the envelope.

"She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold, iridium nib."

""She"?" John looks at him with confusion.

"Obviously." Said Hannah as she went to look at the package

John shifts his head, "Obviously," he sighed.

Sherlock picks up a letter opener from the desk and carefully cuts the envelope open. He looks inside and his mouth opens a little in surprise as he reaches in and takes out a pink smart phone.

John looks at it with shock, "But that's… that's the phone, the pink phone."

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade asks.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like ..." Sherlock stops when he realized what Lestrade just said.

"The Study in Pink? You read his blog?" yelled Hannah and Sherlock at the same time

"Course I read his blog! We all do. D'you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?" said Lestrade as he fold his arms on his chest and looks at him with disbelief while Donovan scoffs.

"It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new," said Sherlock as he ignores Lestrade questions.

"Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership," said Hannah as Sherlock glares at John who was now staring at the floor trying his best to avoid him.

Sherlock switch the phone on and immediately gets voice alert, "You have one new message."

The message plays but there is no. However, five peeps were played and then stopped.

"Is that it?" John asks.

Sherlock shook his head, "No, That's not it."

A photograph has also been uploaded to the phone. He opens it and Lestrade comes across to look over his shoulder. The picture is of an unfurnished room with a fireplace on one wall. The wallpaper is peeling and there's a tall mirror propped up in one corner. A smaller mirror is standing on the mantelpiece.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!" Lestrade yells.

"It's a warning," said Sherlock as he gazes thoughtfully.

"A warning?"

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's going happen again," Hannah explains as she takes a good look of the photo once more and her and Sherlock start to leave the office, "And I've seen this place before." Said Sherlock and Hannah

'Me to'

"H-hang on. What's gonna happen again?" John asks as he follows behind him.

Sherlock turns around and raised his arm, "BOOM!"

….

Shortly afterwards, Mrs Hudson opens the front door of 221C and hands Sherlock a set of keys. Sherlock has been examining the padlock attached to the other door and now takes the keys and begins to unlock it.

"You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat?" Mrs Hudson asks.

Sherlock looks at the keyhole closely, "The door's been opened recently."

Mrs Hudson shook her head, "No, can't be. That's the only key."

"I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements."

Sherlock turns the key and pulls the door open. He immediately goes inside and John and Lestrade follow, taking little or no notice of Mrs Hudson as she continues rambling on, "I had a place once when I was first married. Black mould all up the walls ..." but stopped when the door shut in front of her.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sherlock slowly pushes open the door to the living room and walks inside, followed by the other two. There is a pair of trainers placed neatly in the middle of the floor, their toes pointed towards the door. John stops and looks at them, "Shoes."

Sherlock starts to walk towards them but Hannah holds out a cautionary hand towards him, "He's a bomber, remember."

Sherlock stops for a moment, and then continues slowly towards the trainers. He crouches down, then puts his hands on the floor and leans forward. Lowering his body down he moves closer to the shoes and, just as his nose is almost touching them, a phone rings. Sherlock jumps, closes his eyes momentarily and then stands up, pulls off his glove and takes the pink iPhone from his coat pocket and looks at the caller "NUMBER BLOCKED". He pauses for a second, and then answers the phone, "Hello?"

"H-hello ... sexy," said a woman's voice who was now crying.

"Who's this?"

"I've ... sent you ... a little puzzle ... just to say hi," said the woman tearfully.

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"I-I'm not ... crying ... I'm typing ... and this ... stupid ... bitch ... is reading it out."

Sherlock gaze up thoughtfully, "The curtain rises."

John looks at him with confusion, "What?"

"Nothing," Sherlock utters.

"No, what did you mean?"

"I've been expecting this for some time," he explains.

"Twelve hours to solve ... my puzzle, Sherlock … or I'm going ... to be ... so naughty."

…

In St. Bart's Sherlock is sitting on the bench looking into the microscope while John is wondering around. Then the door opens and there was Hannah walking towards them.

"Hello," she said

.

"What's dad doing?" Hannah looks at her dad with curiosity.

John turns around to face Sherlock, "Honestly I do not know."

"So, who d'you suppose it was?" John walks toward Sherlock.

A text alert interrupted but it did not bother Sherlock, "Hmm?"

"The woman on the phone, the crying woman."

"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there."

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads."

"You're not going to be much use to her."

"Are-are they trying to trace it, trace the call?"

"The bomber's too smart," Hannah said as she wrote more notes on her cast

The same phone as before trills another text alert.

"Pass me my phone," Sherlock demands.

John looks around the room, "Where is it?"

"Jacket."

John straightens up slowly, his entire body going rigid in disbelief Turning to his right, he marches stiffly around the table, slams one hand onto Sherlock's shoulder and crudely pulls his jacket open with the other as he starts to dig in his inside pocket.

"Careful!" Sherlock yells angrily without looking at him

John sighs heavily pulls the phone out and looks at it, "Text from your brother."

"Delete it," Sherlock demands.

John looks at him with disbelief, "Delete it?"

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important," John points out.

Sherlock raises his head in exasperation, "Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?"

"His what?"

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is Mycroft so determined to bore us when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?" said Hannah

Sherlock looks back to the microscope again while John turns off the phone, "Try and remember there's a woman here who might die."

Sherlock looks up, "What for? This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?"

John looks at him disbelief and unmoved.

the computer beeps with results.

"Ah!"

Molly runs into the room, "Any luck?"

"Oh, yes!" said Sherlock triumphantly.

"Molly!" Hannah sat up with delight.

"Hannah you're here!" Molly smiles at her widely.

Hannah walks to Molly and give her a huge hug,

Hannah looks behind Molly and saw an awkward man wearing slacks and a T-shirt, comes in the door.

"Who's that?" she nodsto the man.

Everyone stop what they were doing and was now staring at the awkward man.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't ..."

"Jim! Hi! Come in! Come in!"

Molly makes introductions as Jim closes the door and walks over to her, "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah!"

John turns towards them, and Molly looks at him blankly, "Oh… sorry."

John sighs with disappointment, "John Watson. Hi."

"Hi."

"And Jim this is Hannah Holmes, she's Sherlock's daughter," said Molly as she place her hand on Hannah's shoulder.

Hannah looks at Jim and smiles "Hello!"

'Nice to meet you' he says with a slight wave

"Same to you,"

. He then looks at Sherlock, "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?"

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance," Molly giggles nervously.

Sherlock glances briefly round at Jim before returning to look into the microscope, "Gay."

Molly's smile drop, "Sorry what?"

Sherlock raises his head as he realises what he's just done, "Nothing. Um, hey," he gives Jim a fake smile.

Jim also smiles at him, "Hey," Lowering his hand; he knocks a metal dish off the edge of the table and scrambles to pick it up, "Sorry! Sorry!"

Sherlock looks in irritation while Jim puts the dish back on the table and then scratches his arm as he wanders back towards Molly, "Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at the Fox, 'bout sixish?"

"Yeah!"

He stops besides her, putting a hand on her back, and looks back towards Sherlock, "Bye."

"Bye," Molly replies softly.

"It was nice to meet you," said Jim as he stares at Sherlock who is ignoring him.

"You too," said John.

Jim blinks at him, looking awkward, then turns and leaves the room. Molly waits until the door closes then turns to Sherlock, "What d'you mean, gay? We're together."

Sherlock looks at her, "And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you."

"Two and a half," Molly glares at him.

"No, three."

"Sherlock," John gives him a warning."

"He's not gay. Why d'you have to spoil ... He's not," said Molly angrily.

Sherlock scoffs, "With that level of personal grooming?"

"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair."

"You wash your hair. There's a difference. No-no – tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear," Sherlock points out.

"He's underwear?" Molly looks at Hannah who nodded

"Visible above the waistline – very visible; very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here... and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain," Sherlock smiles at her.

Molly stares at him for a moment, then turns and runs out of the room. Sherlock looks surprised at her reaction.

"Charming, well done," John said sarcastically.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?"

"Kinder"? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn't kind."

Hannah was going to after the poor pathologist

"Where do you think you're going?" Sherlock asked her.

"I going to find Molly."

"Molly's fine, but I need you right now."

Hannah raised an eyebrow and looks at him with confusion,

"Me?'

"No, I want the Queen of England yes you."

Hannah smiles and on a chair next to Sherlock, "What do you want?"

Sherlock placed the shoe in front of her,

"Deduce'


	4. Chapter 4

N/A: I know the Hobbit wasn't out yet when this episode came out but anyway!'

John looks at Hannah then to Sherlock who was giving her a small smile.

"You want her to do her deduction?" John nodded toward Hannah.

"Actually I want you to start off," said Sherlock as he place the shoes in front of John.

John shook his head, "No."

"Go on." Said Hannah

"I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate …" but Sherlock interrupts him, "An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me."

John scoffs, "Yeah, right."

"Really!" said Hannah and Sherlock

John turns back to him and the two of them stare at each other for a moment, Ultimately John nods unhappily, "Fine."

Clearing his throat, he picks up the shoe and looks at it and its partner lying on the table, "I dunno – they're just a pair of shoes. Trainers."

Sherlock nods, "Good," He looks away and picks up his phone as John continues to look at the trainers.

"Umm ... they're in good nick. I'd say they were pretty new ... except the sole has been well-worn, so the owner must have had them for a while. Uh, they're very eighties – probably one of those retro designs."

"You're on sparkling form. What else?"

"Well, they're quite big, so a man's."

"But…"

"But there's traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults don't write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid."

Sherlock looks at him proudly, "Excellent. What else?"

John looks at the shoes once more and puts them down, "That's it."

"That's it?" Sherlock raised a brow.

John nods, "How did I do?"

"Well, John; really well," Sherlock paused for a moment, "I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know ..."

"Yeah, I did crap, let Hannah do her deduction," said John as he hands the shoes to Sherlock who then hands it to Hannah.

"What can you tell me?"

Hannah picks up the shoes and looks at them closely, "The boy loved these shoes because they're really clean and the laces were changed four times, he had eczema and weak arches'

Sherlock smiles down at her, "Good, very good"

"Like John said the man is a kid but has big feet… the man also had weak arches."

"That is good deduction," John whispers to him.

Sherlock roll his eyes, "I can't believe you John! Look! The shoes are twenty years old."

"Twenty years old?" John raised a brow.

Hannah frowned and looked at her phone and then a look of realization spread across her face

"They're not retro they're original. Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine. "said Hannah as she raised her phone to John to see the image.

"But there's still mud on them. They look new," John points out.

"Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it."

"How do you know?"

Sherlock nods toward the computer screen, "Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me. South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind."

"So what happened to him?"

"Something bad," Hannah suggests.

Sherlock nods, "He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them go unless he had to. So: a child with big feet gets ..."Sherlock trails off, staring ahead of himself.

"Oh," he whispers.

"Dad?" Hannah asks with concern.

"What?" John looks at them with confusion.

"Carl Powers," Sherlock said softly.

"Sorry, who?"

"Carl Powers, John."

"What is it?"

"It's where I begin."

….

Later, the boys and Hannah are in the back of a taxi.

"Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid, champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident," said Sherlock as he shows John an old newspaper photo on his phone.

"You wouldn't remember it. Why should you?"

"But you remember."

Sherlock nods, "Yes."

"Something fishy about it?"

"Nobody thought so – nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers."

"Started young, didn't you?"

" The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn't get out of my head."

"What?"

"His shoes."

"They weren't there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes ... until now."

Sherlock has shut himself in the kitchen and is sitting at the table with the trainers nearby – still in the bag –while he looks through photographs and printouts of newspaper reports of Carl Powers' death from 1989. In the living room, on the other side of the closed doors, John was pacing back and forth, Hannah was watching the hobbit film on the computer

"Can I help?" asked John as he opened the sliding doors

Sherlock doesn't react to him.

"I want to help. There's only five hours left."

"SHUT UP!" Sherlock yells at him.

Both John closed his mouth and stood there quietly. Then Mrs Hudson came up the stairs holding a letter.

"Am I interrupting?" she asks.

John shook his head, "No."

'It's from the hospital, Hannah you're due a check-up' she said to Hannah as she laid the letter on the table

Hannah groaned and tried to hide the letter but John grabbed it before she could

"I'll make sure this letter is in his hands this time." Hannah glared at him

"Good man, why don't we go downstairs eat some of Mrs Turner's brownies and watch The Hobbit together Hannah?"

Hannah takes the disc and the box down to 221 A

When Mrs Hudson and Hannah went downstairs John gets a text alert. He takes his phone off from his pocket and opens the inbox:

Any developments?

-MH

"It's your brother. He's texting me now," John frowns, "How does he know my number?"

"Must be the root canal," said Sherlock thoughtfully.

John puts his phone away and goes into the kitchen, "Look, he did say 'national importance'."

Sherlock scoffs, "How quaint."

"What is?"

"You are. Queen and country."

"You can't just ignore it."

"I'm not ignoring it. Putting my best man onto it right now."

"Right good."

There was an awkward silence between them. John looks at the letter and hands it to Sherlock, "You forgot about this."

"Just put it on the desk," said Sherlock without looking up.

John nods as he puts the letter on the table,

"Okay… by the way who's your best man?"

Sherlock smirks, "Who do you think John?"

John rolls his eyes, "Of course… I'll see you in an hour," said John as he walks out of the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock has moved to the side table in the kitchen and is looking into his microscope. Hannah sits at the big table reading the files on Carl Powers Mrs Hudson comes in through the kitchen door with a tray containing a couple of mugs. As she puts them on the kitchen table, Sherlock looks up, "Poison."

Mrs Hudson looks at him with confusion, "What you going on about?"

Sherlock slams his hands down on the side table, "Clostridium botulinum!"

Mrs Hudson cringes and flees the kitchen. Sherlock looks round at John as he comes in from the living room.

"What's that?" John asks.

"It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet!" Hannah explained to him.

John looks at him blankly, "So?"

"Carl Powers!" said Sherlock in a loud voice

"Oh, wait, are you saying he was murdered?"

Sherlock stands up and walks over to where he has hung up the laces from the trainers, "Remember the shoelaces?"

John nods his head.

"The boy suffered from eczema. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns."

"What – how-how come the autopsy didn't pick that up?"

"It's virtually undetectable. Nobody would have been looking for it. Said Hannah as she goes back to the files

He has walked around the table to where his computer notebook is lying. He now begins to type into the message box:

FOUND. Pair of trainers belonging to Carl Powers (1978-1989).undetectable.

Sherlock straightens up and points at the shoe laces, "But there were still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet."

Sherlock bends down and starts to type again:

Botulinum toxin still present. Apply 221B Baker St.

"That's why they had to go," said Sherlock as he straightens himself up.

"So how do we let the bomber know ..."

But Sherlock cuts him off, "Get his attention ... stop the clock."

"The killer kept the shoes all these years."

"Yes. Meaning."

"He's our bomber," said John.

The pink phone rings on the side table. Sherlock hurries over to it and switches it on, "Well done, you. Come and get me."

"Where are you? Tell us where you are," Sherlock said loudly.

'Hannah. Bed.' Sherlock ordered without looking at his daughter

'Goodnight then' she got up hugged John then hugged her father and kissed him on the cheek

Sherlock looked into the microscope; he blindly patted her on the head as she walked to her bedroom

"John, I suggest you go to bed also, Lestrade wants us in the station in the morning," Sherlock suggest as he walks into the living room.

John nodded and walked to his bedroom

, "Night John."

The boys are in Lestrade's office, Sherlock standing at the window with his hands raised in front of his mouth and his fingers tapping together. John is sitting opposite Lestrade at his desk. Hannah stood next to her father

"She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house. Told her to phone you, she had to read out from this pager."

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off," Sherlock whispers.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case," John adds.

"Oh. Elegant," Sherlock and Hannah whispers to themselves.

John raises his head and sighs in exasperation, "Elegant?"

"But what was the point? Why would anyone do this?" Lestrade asks.

Sherlock sighs, "Oh, I can't be the only person in the world that gets bored."

Just then the pink phone beeps a message alert. John turns round to him as he activates the phone, "You have one new message."

As Sherlock walks towards Lestrade's desk, the phone sounds the Greenwich pips again, but this time there are three short pips and one long one.

"Four pips," John points out.

"First test passed, it would seem. Here's the second," Sherlock shows a new photograph to the others. It's a close-up of a car with its driver's door open and the number plate clearly visible. John and Lestrade get up to take a closer look.

"It's abandoned, wouldn't you say?"

"I'll see if it's been reported."

Sergeant Donovan comes to the office holding another phone, "Freak it's for you!" both Sherlock and Hannah look

'Male freak' sighs Donovan

Sherlock walks over to the door and takes the phone from her. John sits down again and Sherlock walks out into the general office and raises the phone to his ear, "Hello?"

The frightened voice of a young man comes over the phone,

"It's okay that you've gone to the police."

"Who is this? Is this you again?" Sherlock asks.

"But don't rely on them. Clever you, guessing about Carl Powers. I never liked him. Carl laughed at me, so I stopped him laughing. "

John and Hannah comes out of the office and walks closer to Sherlock, looking at him with concern.

"And you've stolen another voice, I presume," Sherlock said sharply.

"This is about you and me."

"Who are you? What's that noise?"

"The sounds of life, Sherlock. But don't worry ... I can soon fix that. You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight," the man said tearfully.

Lestrade walks out of the office and yells, "We've found it!"

Sherlock's phone has gone dead. He turns and follows Lestrade.


	6. Chapter 6

N/A: Sorry I changed from ' 'at the start and end of the sentence to

" ", Soz :D

Close to the river, the police have arrived at a large open space where the car was found. Forensics officers in protective clothing were working on the car as Lestrade lead Sherlock and Hannah towards it. John and Sally Donovan were walking along behind them.

'The car was hired yesterday morning by an Ian Monkford. Banker of some kind; City boy. Paid in cash.' Said Lestrade as he looked at his notes

Sherlock looked closely as they pass a woman talking with a female police officer.

'Told his wife he was going away on a business trip, but he never arrived.'

As Sherlock, Lestrade and Hannah reached the passenger door of the car, Sally turned to John.

'You're still hanging round them' said Donovan

'Yeah, well ...'

'Opposites attract, I suppose.'

'No, we're not...'

'You should get yourself a hobby – stamps, maybe. Model trains. Safer.'

She went to stand beside Lestrade as Sherlock leaned into the car to look at a large amount of blood smeared over the island between the two front seats. Hannah got her arm under her father's and opened the glove box blindly

'Before you ask, yes, it's Monkford's blood. The DNA checks out.' Said Lestrade

Hannah finds a business card in the glove box and takes it out. Closing the lid Sherlock straightened up, causing Hannah to fall and nearly hit the ground but John catch's her before she breaks anything else, and John gave Sherlock a look, but Sherlock ignored it

'No body'. Said Sherlock

'Not yet.'

'Get a sample sent to the lab.' Sherlock said to Lestrade

Lestrade nodded and Sherlock walked away. Lestrade turns to Donovan and looked at her pointedly. She stared back at him indignantly but he holds the look and she grunted in exasperation and stomped away. Sherlock walked over to the woman who was talking with the police officer.

'Mrs Monkford?' Sherlock said to the woman

She turned to him tearfully.

'Yes.'

She looked at him, and John, and sighed, Hannah is hidden Sherlock

'Sorry, but I've already spoken with two policemen.'

'No, we're not from the police; we're ...'

Sherlock held his hand out to her, his voice tearful and tremulous.

'Sherlock Holmes. Very old friend of your husband's. We, um...'

As she shook his hand, he looked down as if fighting back his tears.

'..We grew up together.'

'I'm sorry, who? I don't think he ever mentioned you.'

'Oh, he must have done. This is ... this is horrible, isn't it?' Sherlock said in the tearful voice, Hannah rolled her eyes from where she was hidden

John looked away, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to keep his face neutral.

'I mean I just can't believe it. I only saw him the other day. Same old Ian – not a care in the world.'

He smiles tearfully at her.

'Sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months. Who are you?'

'Really strange that he hired a car. Why would he do that? It's a bit suspicious, isn't it?'

By now he had tears running down his cheeks.

'No, it isn't. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, that's all.'

'Oh, well, that was Ian! That was Ian all over!'

'No it wasn't.'

Instantly Sherlock's fake persona dropped and he looked at her intensely.

'Wasn't it? Interesting.'

He turned and walked away Hannah close behind him. She glared after him as he headed for the police tape with John following. The female police office went over to her.

'Who was I talking to?'

'Why did you lie to her?' asked John as the three ducked under the police, Sherlock took his gloves and wiped the tears from under his eyes

'People don't like telling you things, but they love to contradict you. Past tense, did you notice?'

'Sorry, what?'

'I referred to her husband in the past tense. She joined in. Bit premature – they've only just found the car.'

'You think she murdered her husband?'

'Definitely not. That's not a mistake a murderer would make.' Said Hannah

'I see. No, I don't. What am I seeing?'

As they walked past Donovan, she turned and called out to John.

'Fishing! Try fishing!'

John turned around and gave her an exasperated nod before following Sherlock again.'

'Where now?'

'Janus Cars.'

Hannah handed the business card to John.

'Just found this in the glove compartment.' She said

SIX HOURS TO GO.

Sherlock and John are in the office of the car hire company. John sat on the other side of the desk to the owner, taking notes while Sherlock looked out into the forecourt. Hannah sat beside John

'Can't see how I can help you gentlemen.' The manager Ewert said

'Mr Monkford hired the car from you yesterday.'

'Yeah. Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldn't mind one of them myself!'

Sherlock walked over to the other side of the desk so that he's standing beside Ewert, then pointed into the forecourt.

'Is that one?' said Sherlock, Hannah sat up straighter she sat with her legs under her; John frowned at her as she tried to see something

Ewert turns his head to look and Sherlock immediately looked closely at the side of the man's neck. Hannah strained her neck so she could see

'No, they're all Jags. Yeah, I can see you're not a car man, eh?'

Sherlock straightened up as Ewert looks round and smiled at John, Hannah sits normally on her chair

'But, er, surely you can afford one – a Mazda, I mean?'

'Yeah, it's a fair point. But you know how it is: it's like working in a sweetshop. Once you start picking at the liquorice allsorts, when does it all stop, eh?'

He started scratching near the top of his left arm with his right hand. Sherlock looked at him for a moment, then turned away and heads around the room towards the other side of the desk.

'But you didn't know Mr Monkford?'

'No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what happened to him. Poor sod.'

Sherlock has reached the other side of the desk and stopped

'Nice holiday, Mr Ewert?' said Hannah

'Eh?'

'You've been away, haven't you?' explained Sherlock

'Oh, the-the...'

He gestured towards his tanned face.

'No, it's, er, sunbeds, I'm afraid, yeah. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though – bit of sun.'

'Have you got any change for the cigarette machine?' said Sherlock

'What?'

'Well, I noticed one on the way in and I haven't got any change.'

He offered Ewert a bank note.

'I'm gasping.'

'Um, well...'

Ewert reached into his trouser pocket and took out his wallet.

'Hmm.'

He opened the wallet and looks inside.

'No, sorry.'

'Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr Ewert.'

He turned and headed for the door, Hannah behind him

'You've been very helpful. Come on, John.'

They left the office and headed back across the forecourt.

'I-I've got change if you still want to, uh ...' said John

'Nicotine patches remember, He's doing well' said Hannah as she smacked the higher part of her father's right arm

'So what was that all about?' asked John

'We needed to look inside his wallet.' Said Sherlock

'Why?'

'Mr Ewert's a liar.' Said Hannah with a slight bitterness

Back in Bart's. Sherlock had a large drop of blood in a shallow glass dish. Placing it on the desk, he reached into a small bag of equipment, opened a bottle and siphoned out some liquid with a small dropper. Bending down to the dish, he squeezed out a drop of liquid onto the blood, which started to fizz. As Sherlock straightened up, the pink phone rang. The Caller I.D. read "BLOCKED". He picked up the phone and answered it. Hannah entered the lab just as Sherlock put the phone to his ear.

'Hello?' Sherlock asked

"The clue's in the name. Janus Cars." Said a tearful young man

"Why would you be giving me a clue?" asked Sherlock furrowing his brow

"Why does anyone do anything? Because I'm bored. We were made for each other, Sherlock."

"Then talk to me in your own voice." Said Sherlock softly

"Patience."

The line went dead. Sherlock lowered the phone and looked thoughtfully into the distance for a while. Finally he looked down at the fizzing liquid in the dish, then picked up the dish and looked at it more closely. He began to smile; he looked up at Hannah, the pair smiled madly

THREE HOURS TO GO.

Police Car pound. Sherlock, John, Lestrade and Hannah are standing around Monkford's car.

"How much blood was on that seat, would you say?" asked Sherlock

"How much? About a pint."

"Not 'about'. Exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. The blood's definitely Ian Monkford's but it's been frozen." Said Hannah yawning and rubbing sleep from her eyes lifting her glasses up on top of her head

"Frozen?" asked Lestrade curious, raising an eyebrow

"There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago and that's what they spread on the seats." Explained Hannah

"Who did?" said John

"Janus Cars. The clue is in the name." replied Sherlock

"The god with two faces." Said Hannah yawning again quietly

"Exactly." Said Sherlock

"Mmm." Mused John

"They provide a very special service. If you've got any kind of a problem – money troubles, bad marriage, whatever – Janus Cars will help you disappear. Ian Monkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble – financial, at a guess; he's a banker. Couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the driver's seat..." said Sherlock to Lestrade

"So where is he?" Sherlock slammed the door of the car shut

"Columbia." Said Hannah and Sherlock simply

"Columbia?!" said Lestrade shocked

"Mr Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Columbian peso note in his wallet ..."

"... Quite a bit of change, too. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently, but when I asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly." Said Sherlock, Hannah nodded

"No-one wears a shirt on a sunbed. That, plus his arm." Explained Hannah

"His arm?" asked Lestrade shocked

"Kept scratching it. Obviously irritating him and bleeding." Said Sherlock

"Why? Because he'd recently had a booster jab. Hep-B, probably. Difficult to tell at that distance. Conclusion: he'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Columbia. Mrs Monkford cashes in the life insurance and she splits it with Janus Cars." Finished Hannah

"M-Mrs Monkford?" said John just as shocked as Lestrade

"Oh yes. She's in on it too." Cut in Sherlock before Hannah could answer

Lestrade lowered his head with a look of amazement on his face.

"Now go and arrest them, Inspector. That's what you do best."

Sherlock turned to John.

"We need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved."

He turned and led John and Hannah away. Lestrade watched them, still reeling at all the information that he had just been given. Sherlock clenched his fists triumphantly at his sides as he went.

"I am on fire!" as they walk away Sherlock leaned down, and hi- five Hannah


	7. Chapter 7

Sitting at the living room table in their coats – presumably because the heating still can't be turned on nor the fire lit after the 'gas leak' (and because the windows are still broken and boarded up) – Sherlock typed a new message onto The Science of Deduction:

Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Columbia.

He sent the message. A few seconds later another 'blocked' phone call came in on the pink phone lying on the table beside the computer. Sherlock switched the phone on.

"He said you can fetch me. Help. Help me, please." The young man begged tearfully

That morning the boys and Hannah are sitting at a table in a café. John is tucking into a cooked breakfast and has a mug of tea in front of him; Hannah is munching toast with nutella and a glass of milk while Sherlock is drumming his fingers impatiently on the table waiting for the pink phone – which is lying on the table – to ring.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock asked John

"Mmm. You realise we've hardly stopped for breath since this thing started?"

He ate another forkful of food, and then looked thoughtful.

"Has it occurred to you ...?"

"Probably."

"No – has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope; breaking into the other flat; the dead kid's shoes – it's all meant for you."

"Yes, I know." Said Sherlock with a small smile

"Is it him, then? Moriarty?"

"Perhaps."

The pink phone beeped a message alert. Sherlock switched it on and it sounded two short Greenwich pips followed by the longer tone, and a photograph of a smiling middle-aged woman appeared on the screen.

"That could be anybody." Said Sherlock slightly annoyed

"Well, it could be, yeah. Lucky for you, I've been more than a little suspended." Said Hannah through a mouth full of toast

"How d'you mean?"

"Lucky for you, Mrs Hudson and I watch far too much telly." She explained as she swallowed the toast

Hannah crawled over her father stood up and walked over to the counter. Smiling at the woman behind the counter, she picked up a remote control and switched on the small television hung on the wall. She switched channels a couple of times until she finds what he wanted. The woman from the photograph is on the screen, partway through her make-over show. She is gesturing to someone just off-screen.

"Thank you, Tyra! Doesn't she look lovely, everybody, now?" said the woman, a Miss Connie Prince

The pink phone rang as Hannah walked backed to the table.

'Anyway, speaking of silk purses and sows' ears ...' the woman on the telly still chattered away

Sherlock picked up the phone and answered it.

"Hello?" said Sherlock

An old woman spoke tremulously in a Yorkshire accent.

"This one ... is a bit ... defective. Sorry."

"She's blind. This is ... a funny one."

Hannah walked back over to the table.

"I'll give you ... twelve hours."

Sherlock looked at Hannah as she sat down again.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Sherlock into the phone

"I like ... to watch you ... dance."

Even though she cannot see it, there is a laser point from a sniper's rifle ran over her body. As she finished speaking, she gasped and sobs in terror. Sherlock lowered the phone and shook his head at John and Hannah, then dropped the phone onto the table as he turned to look at the TV.

As the footage continued, a voiceover replaces her voice and a news headline at the bottom of the screen reads: Make-over Queen Connie Prince dead at 48.

"... Continuing into the sudden death of the popular TV personality, Connie Prince. Miss Prince, famous for her make-over programmes, was found dead two days ago by her brother in the house they shared in Hampstead ..." said the newsreader on the telly

In Bart's Morgue

Connie Prince's body has been laid out on a table in the morgue, with a sheet covering her and leaving only her arms and upper chest bare. Lestrade lead Hannah and the boys into the room, reading from a file as he went.

"Connie Prince, fifty-four. She had one of those make-over shows on the telly. Did you see it?" Asked Lestrade

"No." replied Sherlock

"Very popular. She was going places."

"Not any more. So: dead two days. According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos, she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound."

He, Hannah and John looked at the deep cut in the webbing between her right thumb and index finger.

"Tetanus bacteria enters the bloodstream – good night Vienna" said Hannah .

"I suppose." Sighed John

"Something's wrong with this picture." Said Hannah as she frowned

"Eh?"

"Can't be as simple as it seems, otherwise the bomber wouldn't be directing us towards it. Something's wrong." Explained Sherlock

He narrowed his eyes as he looks down at the body and then bent closer to look along Connie's right arm as he took his magnifier from his pocket. There are several scratches on her upper arm which looked like claw marks. He moved up to her face and noticed some tiny pinpricks on her forehead just above her nose. He looked at them through the magnifier.

"John?"

"Mmm." Replied John

"The cut on her hand: it's deep; would have bled a lot, right?"

"Yeah."

"But the wound's clean – very clean, and fresh." Said Sherlock

He looked up, his eyes flickering as he thinks it through, then straightened up and clicked the magnifier closed.

"How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?"

"Eight, ten days."

Sherlock and Hannah quirked a one-sided grin and turned to John, waiting for him to put it all together. It doesn't take him long.

"The cut was made later." Said John, the answer dawning on him

"After she was dead?" asked Lestrade

"Must have been. The only question is, how did the tetanus enter the dead woman's system?"

John looked along the body thoughtfully.

"You want to help, right?" Sherlock asked John

"Of course."

"Connie Prince's background – family history, everything. Give me data. Hannah you go with him" Hannah nodded

"Right." The two replied

The two turn and left the room. Sherlock looked down at Connie's body one more time, then turned and headed towards the door.

"There's something else that we haven't thought of." Said Lestrade

"Is there?" said Sherlock causally

"Yes. Why is he doing this, the bomber?"

Sherlock stopped keeping his back to the inspector and looking a little anxious.

"If this woman's death was suspicious, why point it out?"

"Good Samaritan." Sherlock said over his shoulder

He tried to move away but Lestrade persisted.

"... Who press-gangs suicide bombers?"

"Bad Samaritan."

"I'm – I'm serious, Sherlock. Listen: I'm cutting you slack here; I'm trusting you – but out there somewhere, some poor bastard's covered in Semtex and is just waiting for you to solve the puzzle. So just tell me: what are we dealing with?"

Sherlock looked away thoughtfully, then smiled with delight.

"Something new."

With that he left leaving Lestrade alone with the now dead Tv show host, Connie Prince


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's note:__ I would like to say thank you to:_

_CaptainoftheUSSTardis _

_DeathIsNotCool _

_KijoKuroi _

_diamondflames554 _

_helen carter _

_kie1993 _

_triplehm_

_I'm sorry about the very, very late update, I've just been very busy, but I will try to make the updates more regular, Thanks, Hannah_

EIGHT HOURS TO GO.

. At 221B.

The wall behind the sofa is covered with paperwork: maps, photographs of Connie Prince – both when she was alive and pictures taken in the morgue – photos of Carl Powers, press cuttings and various sheets of paper with notes scribbled on them. Pieces of string are pinned between some of the exhibits, linking them together. Sherlock paced back and forth in front of the sofa as Lestrade stood nearby.

"Connection, connection, connection. There must be a connection." Sherlock said under his breath

He stopped and gestured towards various spots on the display on the wall as he spoke

"Carl Powers, killed twenty years ago. The bomber knew him; admitted that he knew him. The bomber's iPhone was in stationery from the Czech Republic. First hostage from Cornwall; the second from London; the third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. What's he doing – working his way round the world? Showing off?"

The pink phone rang. He took it from his pocket and sees that the Caller I.D. again reads "NUMBER BLOCKED". He answered, and the old woman begins to narrate what's being said into her earpiece.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Joining the ... dots."

"Three hours: boom ... boom."

She cried in terror, then the phone goes dead. Sherlock looked at Lestrade for a moment, then switched the phone off, put it back in his pocket and raised his hands to his mouth in the prayer position, concentrating on the wall in front of him.

Kenny Prince's House

In a beautifully and elegantly decorated house, a hairless cat meowed as it wandered about on a sofa. Kenny Prince, a man in his late fifties who is wearing a very fancy purple shirt comes into the room. Behind him the much younger and far more dishy 'houseboy' Raoul stopped at the doorway and gestured to John and Hannah to go in.

"We're devastated. Of course we are." Said Mr Prince

As John and Hannah walk into the living room, Kenny reached the other side of the room and turned back, propping his arm on the mantelpiece. Looking a little uncomfortable, John and Hannah sat down on the sofa beside the cat. Hannah trying to stay as far away as possible from the cat

"Can I get you anything, sir, madam?" asked Raoul

"Er, no. No, thanks." Said John and Hannah

Raoul looked across the room to Kenny, who smiled at him. Raoul returned the smile, then turned and left the room.

"Raoul is my rock. I don't think I could have managed."

Mr Prince looked down sadly.

"We didn't always see eye to eye, but my sister was very dear to me."

The cat has climbed onto John's lap and meowed loudly in protest as he picked it up and put it down beside him. Hannah pinched her nose trying to cover a sneeze, John looked at her funny and then it dawned on him. Hannah was allergic to cats.

"And – and to the public, Mr Prince." Said Hannah

"Oh, she was adored. I've seen her take girls who looked like the back end of Routemasters and turn them into princesses, she could have down wonder's with you miss, not saying you're not pretty, just you're no Helen of Troy." Hannah's mouth opened in offence

John looked down in frustration as the cat climbed into his lap again. Hannah held her nose again trying to stop a sneeze again, John gave her "I'm sorry" look.

"Still, it's a relief in a way to know that she's beyond this veil of tears."

John is nervously holding the cat as it purred contentedly on his lap.

"Absolutely." Said John awkwardly, Hannah let out a little sneeze.

Back in 221 B Baker Street

Mrs Hudson has joined Sherlock and Lestrade and stood between them as they face the paper-covered wall. Sherlock is talking into his own phone.

"Great. ... Thank you. Thanks again." He said into the phone

He turned and walked towards the fireplace, still talking into the phone. Mrs Hudson looks sadly at a photo of Connie Prince on the wall.

"It was a real shame. I liked her. She taught you how to do your colours." Said Mrs Hudson slightly glumly

Lestrade – who had turned and was watching Sherlock on the other side of the room – now turned back to Mrs Hudson.

"Colours?" he said confused

You know ..." she gestured down at her clothes "... what goes best with what. I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me."

Sherlock had just finished his conversation and walked back to join the others.

"Who was that?" Lestrade asked Sherlock

"Home Office." Said Sherlock as he stared at the wall

"Home Office?" Said Lestrade shocked

"Well, Home Secretary, actually. Owes me a favour." Replied Sherlock casually

"She was a pretty girl but she messed about with herself too much. They all do these days." Said Mrs Hudson as she looked at the photo on the wall of Connie Prince, the deceased was smiling and holding an award.

Mrs Hudson looked at Lestrade

"People can hardly move their faces. It's silly, isn't it?!" she giggled, Lestrade smiled politely, the older woman turned to Sherlock

"Did you ever see her show?" She asked the younger man

"Not until now."

He turned and picked up his computer notebook and opened it. A video started to play, showing footage of an episode of Connie's make-over show. She is talking to her brother in the TV studio.

"You look pasty, love!" Said Connie to her brother

"Ah. Rained every day but one!" replied her brother, Kenney

"That's the brother. No love lost there, if you can believe the papers." Sighed Mrs Hudson

"So I gather. Hannah and I have just been having a very fruitful chat with people who loved this show. Fan sites – indispensable for gossip."

"There's really only one thing we can do with that ensemble, don't you think, girls?" said Prince as she gestured to her brothers attire

She stood up and clapped her hands rhythmically as she began to chant.

"Off! Off! Off! Off!"

The audience took up the chant and the clapping.

By the third, "Off!" Connie is rhythmically beating her hands quite hard onto Kenny's back as he dropped his jacket to the floor and starts to unbutton his shirt. He grimaced in pain but then turned a false smile toward the audience.

Kenny is still standing by the fireplace, looking thoughtfully at a framed photograph of Connie holding her TV award. John is sitting on the sofa looking down at his notebook as he talks. Hannah had gone to the bathroom (mostly because the cat was giving her funny looks and to be honest she's not much of an animal lover)

"It's more common than people think. The tetanus is in the soil, people cut themselves on rose bushes, garden forks, that sort of thing. If left un…"

He looked up in surprise as Kenny – who has walked across the room unnoticed – now plonked heavily down onto the sofa beside him and stared at him intensely.

"…treated ..." John finished

"I don't know what I'm going to do now."

"Right." Replied John, a nervous tone creeping into his tone

"I mean, she's left me this place, which is lovely ..."

John looked around the living room with his eyes narrowed, apparently not agreeing with how 'lovely' the place might be.

"... but it's not the same without her."

"Th-that's why my paper wanted to get the, um, the full story straight from the horse's mouth. You sure it's not too soon?" said John attempting to move away from Mr Prince

"No."

"Right."

"You fire away."

The cat meowed and trotted across the carpet. John watched it as he reached up to rub the side of his nose. As he pulled his hand away again he suddenly realised something and quickly raised his hand to his nose once more, pretending to rub it as he quietly sniffed at his fingers and looked towards the cat again. He smiles round nervously at Kenny.

221B. Mrs Hudson has left the room but Sherlock and Lestrade are still standing in front of the wall display. Sherlock's phone rings and he fished it out of his jacket pocket, looked quickly at the Caller I.D. and then held the phone to his ear.

"Hannah"

"Hi. Look, get over here quickly. I think we're onto something. You'll need to pick up some stuff first. You got a pen?"

"I'll remember."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I'm so incredible sorry for the late update, if some of you don't know; I'm in middle of other stories so I may be late. A lot_

Sometime later, Kenny is primping in front of the mirror near the fireplace when the entrance door shut. John put down his teacup and Hannah straightened up

"That'll be him." Said Hannah

"What?" said Mr Prince confused

Raoul showed Sherlock into the room. Sherlock had a large bag over his shoulder and is carrying a long narrow case which is designed to hold a photographic tripod. He walked over to Kenny.

"Ah, Mr Prince, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Very good to meet you"

"Yes; thank you."

They shook hands, Sherlock looking closely at Kenny's hand as he did so.

"So sorry to hear about..."

"Yes, yes, very kind."

"Shall we, er ..."

Sherlock walked over to the sofa, put the case down and started rummaging in his bag. Kenny turned back to the mirror and fiddles with his hair again.

"You were right. The bacteria got into her another way." Said John to Sherlock quietly

"Oh yes?" replied Sherlock smirking

"Yes." Mr Prince turned to face the trio

"Right. We all set?"

"Um, yes." Said Hannah

Hannah looked at Sherlock, who has taken a camera and flashgun out of his bag, and jerked his head towards Kenny.

"Can you ...?"

As Kenny leaned one arm on the mantelpiece and posed, Sherlock walked over to him and started taking photographs of him.

"Not too close. I'm raw from crying." Said Mr Prince

The cat meowed at Sherlock's feet. He looked down.

"Oh, who's this?" he asked

"Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess."

"How nice! Was she Connie's?"

"Yes."

John reached down toward the cat but Kenny beats him to it, picking the cat up)

"Little present from yours truly."

Frustrated, John straightened up, then looked at his flatmate.

"Sherlock? Uh, light reading?"

"Oh, um ..."

He lifted a second flashgun which he is holding in his other hand and held it toward Kenny, firing it straight into his face.

"Two point eight."

Kenny squints his eyes shut against the light.

"Bloody hell. What do you think you're playing at?!"

John immediately reached out and rubs his fingers over one of the cat's front paws. Sherlock kept firing the flashgun to keep Kenny's eyes closed.

"Sorry."

John lifted his fingers away and sniffed them as Sherlock continued to fire the flashgun

"You're like Laurel and bloody Hardy, you three. What's going on?"

"Actually, I think we've got what we came for. Excuse us." Said John suddenly

"What?"

"Sherlock. Hannah"

"What?" said Hannah

John grabbed the case from the sofa and headed for the door

"We've got deadlines."

Sherlock and Hannah followed after him.

"But you've not taken anything!"

Ignoring him, the trio hurry out of the living room and let themselves out of the door.

John chuckled delightedly as they walked down the drive and head toward the main road.

"Yes! Ooh, yes!"

"You think it was the cat. It wasn't the cat." Said Sherlock smiling, Hannah took one of the bags from Sherlock, which only now did John realize was her school bag

"What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It's how they got the tetanus into her system. Its paws stink of disinfectant."

"Lovely idea." Said Hannah with a cute smile

"No, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It's a new pet – bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't have..."

"I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it's too random and too clever for the brother." Interrupted Sherlock

John chuckled again.

"He murdered his sister for her money."

"Did he?"

"Didn't he?"

"No. It was revenge."

"Revenge? Who wanted revenge?"

"Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally he had enough; fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, so ..." explained Hannah

"No, wait, wait. Wait a second." Said John stopping

Sherlock and Hannah stop as well

"What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat's claws?"

"Raoul keeps a very clean house. You came through the kitchen door, saw the state of that floor, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. You smell of disinfectant now. No, the cat doesn't come into it."

John pulled his jacket up to sniff at it as Sherlock and Hannah looked toward the main road.

"Raoul's internet records do, though. Hope we can get a cab from here."

He and Hannah walked off. John sighed in exasperation and a touch of disappointment that he hadn't solved the case for once. He glared toward his friend's back and then followed them

ONE HOUR TO GO.

NEW SCOTLAND YARD.

Sherlock and Hannah walked into the main office, Sherlock brandishing a folder at Lestrade.

"Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Prince's houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince – it was botulinum toxin."

He put the folder on the desk. As Lestrade reached for it, Sherlock leaned closer to him.

"We've been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bomber's repeated himself."

Lestrade walked toward his office, Sherlock following. John stared at them in surprise.

"So how'd he do it?"

"Botox injection."

"Botox?"

"Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul's internet purchases." Hannah pointed to the folder.

"He's been bulk ordering Botox for months." She finished

Nearby, John has continued to stare at Sherlock, and his expression is becoming angrier.

"Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose" said Sherlock oblivious to the glare

"You sure about this?"

"I'm sure."

"All right – my office."

Lestrade turned and walked toward his office. Sherlock started to follow but John stopped him.

"Hey, Sherlock. How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you known?"

"Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake."

He tried to walk towards Lestrade's office but again John stopped him.

"No, but Sherl… The hostage… the old woman. She's been there all this time."

"I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get on with other things. Don't you see? We're one up on him!"

He heads into Lestrade's office. John pursed his lips in frustration, then followed.

Shortly afterwards, Sherlock is sitting at Lestrade's desk where a laptop has been opened to The Science of Deduction website. John and Lestrade are standing either side of him. Sherlock types into the message box:

Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, botox.

He sent the message and the pink phone on the desk beside the computer rang almost instantly. He picked it up and answered.

"Hello?"

"Help me."

"Tell us where you are. Address."

"He was so ... His voice ..."

"No, no, no, no. Tell me nothing about him. Nothing."

"He sounded so ... soft."

The laser point from the sniper's rifle moved onto the bomb. A single shot fired and the phone instantly goes dead.

"Hello?"

"Sherlock?"

"What's happened?"

Slowly, staring ahead of himself, Sherlock lowered the phone from his ear. He bit his lip as Lestrade – realising that something bad must have happened – straightened up and sighed. John braced a hand on the back of Sherlock's chair. Hannah looked down upset, she walked out of the office and into the main area

Sherlock and John are sitting in their armchairs watching the news on the TV. Hannah sat at the table, sorting through her comic's, it was a distraction, trying to forget what happened last night

Sherlock has the pink phone on the left arm of his chair. The windows are still broken and boarded up and the traffic is loud outside.

On the TV, the picture shows a high-rise block of flats and the headline at the bottom of the screen reads, "12 dead in gas explosion". The picture moves to a close-up, showing a corner of the building many floors up which has been torn open and exposed to the air.

"The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people ..." said the news reader

"Old block of flats." Said John to Sherlock

"... is said to have been caused by a faulty gas main. A spokesman from the utilities company ..." said the news reader

"He certainly gets about."

"Well, obviously I lost that round – although technically I did solve the case." Said Sherlock, soundly slightly disappointed

He picked up the remote control and muted the volume. Lowering his hand again he looked thoughtfully into the distance.

"He killed the old lady because she started to describe him." He mused out loud

"Just once, he put himself in the firing line."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organises these things but no-one ever has direct contact."

"... like the Connie Prince murder – he-he arranged that? So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?"

"Novel." Said Sherlock, face full of admiration

John looked at him in disbelief, then turned and looked at the TV screen again, which has moved on to a new story.

"Huh."

He jerked a finger towards the screen and Sherlock looked up to see Raoul de Santos being bundled out of Kenny's house by police officers.

The press are there and are shoving each other as they struggle to get close to Raoul and take photographs while interviewers shout questions. The headline on the screen reads: "Connie Prince: man arrested". Raoul is shoved into the back of a police car.

John looked round at Sherlock, who is looking down at the pink phone.

"Taking his time this time."

John looked away, clearing his throat uncomfortably. On the TV, the camera is focussing on Kenny who is standing at the window of his house, holding Sekhmet in his arms and watching the chaos outside.

"Anything on the Carl Powers case?"

"Nothing. All the living classmates check out spotless. No connection." Said Hannah as she walked into the living room, flopping down on the couch

"Maybe the killer was older than Carl?"

"The thought had occurred."

"So why's he doing this, then – playing this game with you? D'you think he wants to be caught?"

Sherlock pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth and smiled slightly.

"I think he wants to be distracted."

John laughed humourlessly, got out of his chair and headed toward the kitchen.

"I hope you'll be very happy together."

"Sorry, what?"

John turned back, furious, and leaned his hands on the back of his chair.

"There are lives at stake, Sherlock – actual human lives… Just - just so I know, do you care about that at all?"

"Will caring about them help save them?" said Sherlock annoyed

"Nope."

"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake."

"And you find that easy, do you?"

"Yes, very. Is that news to you?"

"No. No." said John with a bitter smile

They lock eyes for a moment.

"I've disappointed you."

Still smiling angrily as he pointed at him sarcastically, John said

"That's good – that's a good deduction, yeah."

"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

They stare at each other for a second but then the pink phone sounded a message alert.

"Excellent!" Hannah sat up on the couch

He picked up the phone and activated it. The phone sounds one short pip and the long tone, and a photograph appears showing a river bank.

"View of the Thames. South Bank – somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo."

He reached into his jacket for his own phone.

"You check the papers; I'll look online ..."

He looked up and sees that John is standing with his hands braced on the back of his chair and his head lowered.

"Oh, you're angry with me, so you won't help. Fine be like that, I have Hannah"

John raised his head and shrugged.

"Not much cop, this caring lark."

Sherlock dismisses John from his mind as he begins a search on his phone:

Search:

Thames

+ High Tide

+ Riverside

John stared at him for a moment, then straightened up as he perhaps realised that his friend is never going to change. Sherlock continued his online search, totally focussed on his work and oblivious to the emotional trauma which his flatmate and daughter are going through. After a while John sniffed, then walked across the room towards the sofa. Sherlock switched to a search for

Local News

Greenwich

Waterloo

Battersea

He selects Waterloo as John tiredly sat down on the sofa next to Hannah and starts going through the pile of newspapers on the coffee table. Sherlock's phone showed timed reports from the Waterloo area, giving tide times, police reports and other information.

"Archway suicide."

"Ten a penny." Snapped Sherlock

John threw him a look as Sherlock went back to the Local News option and selects Battersea. The page showed "No new reports". He tried "Thames Police Reports" and started scrolling through the duty log.

"Ah. Man found on the train line – Andrew West."

Sherlock looked exasperated as he found no helpful information in the reports.

"Nothing!"

He hit a speed dial and the phone began to ring out. As soon as it is answered he started talking.

"It's me. Have you found anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge?"


End file.
